Can I go on doing this?

I’m really worried. My husband, R, is so down at the moment. It’s very unlike him, although he does get like this occasionally from time to time. And I’m worried that what I’m doing is contributing to that.

We’ve talked, and talked, about whether he’s comfortable with me doing what I’m doing. He knows everything, but he doesn’t like getting detailed descriptions, so we’ve agreed and discussed limits and balance of time and so on, many times, but I don’t give him a blow by blow breakdown of what or who I’ve been doing.

The simple fact of it is that, having had a pretty quiet life for the last couple of years, up until six months ago, my life is really taking off, I’m discovering myself, becoming fulfilled, and having a bloody good fun time recently. I was so pleased and happy because he seemed to be using this to rejuvenate his own life, too…he’s been doing loads more socialising and activities recently including a couple of really exciting things like a sword tournament in scotland and a parachute jump.

But currently, he’s got nothing immediately on the horizon, and he’s feeling very low and anticlimactic. He’s worried about money, worried about the new job which he’s been promised but is on hold until an unspecified time in the spring, which considering it’s been an 18 month process of applying for it, going through tests and so on, and then finally getting the job offer but waiting on a start date since early summer, is not really surprising. He’s having a difficult time from his bosses in his current job, and the new job will solve that, plus it’s more money, which means more resources for fun activities etc etc etc.

So I know he’d still be feeling like this if I was sitting at home feeling miserable with him. But the fact that I’m swanning off here there and everywhere having a super time, must rub it in a bit, and that makes me feel sooooooo guilty. Am I emasculating him even further by going off and having fun in bed with other people, without him?

We’ve talked about it and he’s said I shouldn’t feel guilty, that once the new job starts he’ll be fine, and I know he’s very resilient and will bounce back quickly…but….I just feel so guilty still/ It’s a fact that I am essentially contributing to his feeling bad by my actions. Now, I know in my sensible self that it’s up to him to sort himself out, that my self-fulfillment shouldn’t be put on hold so I can sit around and iron his shirts in sympathetic misery, but but but but I’m hurting him by having fun while he isn’t. That makes me feel sick and anxious and bleugh. Am I damaging his self-image? I know it makes him feel a bit like the bloke who stays at home looking after the cats, who is boring and unglamorous, while I’m going off having wild sex and play with exciting people who are giving me an amazing time. I’m lavishing him with reassurances and we’re going on holiday in a week’s time, which will be a wonderful opportunity to spend time together, and I’m hoping that will sort him out. How can I make him understand how much I ADORE him and want him to be happy? And that my having fun doesn’t mean I value him any less?

ARGHHH! This whole emotional pendulum swing this is doing my head in. A friend reckons R’s suffering from his own version of drop, due to adrenaline withdrawal. And I have known R be like this before when his job is making him feel crappy. But I love him so much, and his pain is my pain. He feels bad, I feel bad. And an element unique to me, is that while if I feel sad, it might make him feel sad too, he doesn’t feel responsible for it. Whereas when R is unhappy, I feel deeply that it’s my duty to make him happy again, and if I don’t, then I’m failing him.

Up and down, up and down, like a tart’s knickers…

I stayed lovely and relaxed after a thoroughly debauched weekend, which lasted right up until yesterday. Now my mood’s dropped a bit. I’m really struggling with the aftermath of the break-up with N. I’ve been very close a few times in the last couple of weeks, to walking away from the scene completely. I need to find some way to express my feelings of frustration and hurt, through writing, whilst at the same time, not retaliate in a ‘tit-for-tat’ style debacle in public, which would serve no purpose.

It’s clear my ex is hurting a great deal, and I suspect it’s easier for her at the moment to hate me, and re-write history so that she’s the victim of this failed relationship, rather than accept we were just not meant to be together. She’s having difficulty letting go, and I understand that, and I feel for her. What’s happening though, is that she’s being very public about her pain, and I am not. She is putting a very particular and one-sided slant on my behaviour, and being very vocal about it. And I am not. Which means that even my close friends are wondering what the fuck is up with me that I’ve been behaving like such an insensitive bitch.

I have no intention of justifying myself, my actions, or my behaviour, to anyone else. If I start picking each accusation apart and responding to it, I’ll become as embroiled in spending time thinking about her, as I was when we were together, and I am not going to do that. As long as I can look at myself and be realistic - I’ve cocked a good few things up but I took the best decision that I could at the time, and although I’ve made mistakes out of naivety and believing the best of people, I know I’m neither cruel nor heartless, and it doesn’t matter how many people tell me I am. I struggle so hard and so continually to do the right thing, and occasionally fall down, and now I feel as if I’m being strung up over it, even though I know I am STILL doing the right thing by making a deliberate choice not to stand up for myself, which under the circumstances, would only make the whole thing spiral out of control even further.

But…it hurts. My honeymoon period with the social network surrounding the scene is well and truly over, I feel a bit like a social pariah at the moment, and I’m unsettled and ill at ease. I am not finding this easy at all. I feel judged and found wanting. There’s always three sides to every story, they say - yours, mine, and the truth. Well, it’s not that I am not being heard by people, more that I’m choosing not to be heard. Things are always more complicated than they seem.

"Bring Me Back to Life"

MMm, where do I start? Well, after a pretty difficult couple of weeks, I was looking for some uncomplicated fun this friday. And oh yeah..definitely got it!

Went round to B's in after work, got changed, and awaited the arrival of the others before heading off to DV8. I was very nervous because it was the first club going experience post break-up, and I was also anxious about meeting his friend, O. Had an ‘oh my FUCK, she’s GORGEOUS!’ moment as she walked in the door, and felt all stammery and stupid for a bit. Managed not to walk into any walls or have a Clumsy Incident, so that was a result.

Took us about elebinty gazillion years to find the damn place, but we got there in the end. Lovely venue, out in the middle of nowhere, with a lot of different equipment and soft spaces upstairs curtained off with veiled fabric. I was doing my social butterfly thing, just catching up with people, chatting and hanging out, when B came up to me and gave me this LOOK, and said ‘O can’t stop looking at your bottom. You’re a very popular girl!’ I was trying to give them a bit of space and not be the ‘just had a difficult breakup clingy friend who everyone is sympathetic too but also finding a bit irritating’. Especially since I had to firmly lock up the sadness which threatened to overwhelm me, being there without her.

He very quickly dispelled any ideas like that though, by putting his hand on my shoulder, underneath my hair, and doing this really simple thing that bypassed my conscious mind completely and turned me into submissive jelly…just digging his fingers into my neck, don’t know how it worked, something about it just dropped me utterly.

Had a comedy moment upstairs, just starting to get seriously into a play with him, when this ridiculous noise like Darth Vader snorting coke started right next to my ear. I couldn’t work out what it was, then realised it was a guy in a gimp suit breathing through his regulator, getting a bit….excited. I had to fight off a fit of the giggles…and unbeknownst to me, so was B… I was THIS close to turning round and saying, look, you know what? Go away and do some heavy breathing elsewhere, cos you’re really putting me off!

Was sitting downstairs having a cuddle and a come down, and O was talking about how she was a bit frustrated there wasn’t anyone here she particularly wanted to give a good spanking to, that she hadn’t brought with her. So I batted my eyelashes and before I knew it I was whisked upstairs and bent over her lap. Cue another comedy moment as we were just beginning, when she said - I don’t want to alarm you, but can you smell come?! Break for a quick check round to make sure we weren’t lying in a big pool of it…then back into the zone…for just long enough for B to come upstairs, and be so distracted by the sight of my arse bent over O’s lap that he tripped over my foot…it clearly was not my night for getting through a play without snorting and giggling to myself…

Plenty more play ensued, although not quite enough…next time we’ll need to get there earlier, we all agreed. Safe and snug in the back of the car under B's coat, I zoned in and out all the way back, where we sat up in the lounge deconstructing the evening.

The Basement [erotic fiction]

Your hands are holding mine, playing with my fingers, pressing the joints, using your thumbs to roll the skin back and forth. But instead of being comforting, it's frightening me. You're pressing just a little too hard, pulling too roughly, and I become uncomfortably aware how breakable and fragile my small wrists and fingers feel in your big hands.

I turn my face up to yours and whisper, “Are you mad at me?” You smile, but again, it's not comforting. I'm leaning into the safety net of the people around us, drinking and talking, your friends and mine, all unaware of the tension between us. You're drinking more than normal, and that is frightening me too.

Some people have gone already, only a couple remain in your kitchen as the party winds down. I want to ask them to stay, or leave with them when they go, but sooner or later I need to face reality and this isn't going to go away. I've got goosebumps on my arms as the last of our friends hug me goodbye for the night, and the hairs on my skin rise as you put a proprietorial arm around my waist as we stand in the doorway watching, smiling as they get into their taxi.

I don't belong to you. I've only been lent to you. I don't live here. This is your house. Every atom has your presence stamped on it. The air smells of you, and the house seems darker already, responding to your mood. There's a moment of silence, a pause in the rising tension, then a lot of things happen very fast. I'm downstairs now with a bouquet of bruises blooming on my wrists. The red dress I wear is torn and I'm angry; frightened but furious at the same time. There's only a little light coming through the black material draped over the window, I can see your pale skin shining, a flash of dark eye, your expression so altered none of your friends would recognise you. You're transformed, changed, but I still know you, I always knew you. You were the monster which came for me in the night, the sound of rustling outside my door, the knocking of the branch on the window which stopped me sleeping. Fear flows inside me like ink in water, followed by the ignition trail of rage. I spit at you, fingers curled to use my nails on your face, swearing, hissing out the sounds as I tell you to get the fuck away from me.

“Don't you speak to me, don't even open your mouth, you little fucking bitch”. You grab my hair and use it to throw me to the cold concrete, you kneel and drag me over your thighs, ripping the fabric of my knickers as you throw them onto the dirty floor. You start to spank me, but this isn't a normal spanking, or even like a disciplinary, this is straight to hell with no warm-up, given in anger, and it hurts, it hurts so very very much, I start to scream… never before have I made a sound like this and I can't believe it's the same action, so often given to me in love, which is tearing my mind open right now.

You push me roughly off your lap onto the floor and as I struggle to get away from you, you're taking off your belt, you use my clothes to haul me back over and it starts again, but even worse than before. I'm fighting and kicking and screaming but you're so very much stronger than me and I can't get away, I'm sobbing so hard my chest is burning and I struggle to breathe..you push me off once again and I'm exhausted, too worn out by the storm of pain and emotion to even crawl away. I can feel welts and blood, the floor is spotted with red..I can taste blood inside my mouth.

You stand and lean over me but I still can't move. You're opening your flies and holding your cock in your hand, and I still can't move. I'm just lying, curled, a crumpled heap of tears and torn flesh and fabric. You lift me by pulling my hair, open my mouth with your fingers and push yourself inside me. I could use this chance to hurt you and try to run, but I can't. Too scared of what might happen. If I please you, you might let me go. You might forgive me.

I suckle the end, slide my lips over, open my mouth so I'm not touching you and gently breathe out warm breath onto your skin. I whirl my tongue in circles around you, and kiss my way up and down the shaft. I lick from the base to the tip in one swift movement, then push all of you into my throat in one go, holding it for as long as I can before starting to nibble and suck the tip, grazing gently with teeth and teasing with my tongue so that you never know where I'm going to lick next. I hold the shaft in my hands and gently move them back and forth while I put the top few inches into my mouth and suck you in, deeply. I imagine my lips to be my labia, and push your cock in and out of the warm, sticky wetness inside. I sneak one of my fingers into my mouth to be covered in lubrication, before I slip my hand between your legs while you're not looking. I take a chance and gently push a finger inside your opening while I suck you, keeping the rhythm going with my other hand.

My mouth stings and burns where the cuts are, and my confusion and guilt rises as I realise sucking you is doing to me what it always does, and I'm soaking wet between my legs. I adore making you come in my mouth, swallowing your hot semen and taking it inside me to keep. You know this and I hope, as your hands suddenly grab the back of my head, and you begin to thrust into my mouth, that your love is overcoming your anger, you're going to give me what I want, what I need from you. You're choking me, I struggle to keep my throat muscles relaxed, but the pain of you pulling my hair calms me, keeps me focused.

Just as I expect to feel the splash of something warm and delicious hit the back of my throat, you pull out and slap me hard in the face again. You put your boot on my chest and push backwards and I fall to the floor. “You're a dirty little slut, you like to take my cock, don't you? You want my cock? Be careful what you wish for. I'm going to fuck you until you scream”. I'm lifted off the ground and you cuff my hands behind my back at an awkward angle, then put my ankles in cuffs with a spreader bar between them. You lift me onto the table and stand in front of me with your cock so hard, so full, I'm unsure if I can take it all inside me. My eyes are so wide, I look at you pleadingly, pointlessly, because I know there is no chance you will let me go. And although my mind is horrified, my body wants this. My clit is swollen and hard, almost painful with need, my hips rocking back and forth in tiny invisible movements, my nipples are so tight and hard they're hurting me. I crave you, hate you, hate myself, disgust myself, but have never felt so beautiful or desirable or powerful as now, my makeup smeared with tears, smudges of dirt covering my skin, blood and bruises and fragments of cloth my only clothes, my pussy burning and so wet, so tight for you, my pupils dilated and wide with desire and terror.

You sink your fingernails into my buttocks and slide me the few inches across the table so that your cock sinks into me. The tip is inside me and throbs, as you move it back and forth. The angle presses my wrists together and makes them hurt, and the deeper your thrust, the more it hurts me. I moan and shake my sweaty hair out of my eyes.

Your hands are alternating, one moment on my hips as you lean over me and grind with greater and greater speed and force inside me, the next on my forehead, pushing my skin, or my neck, squeezing, my life in your hands, or pulling my hair, yanking my neck back as you sink your teeth into my throat. I cry out with the pain as I'm leaned further and further back and the bondage puts more strain on my arms and wrists. Then you bite harder and my moans change, and I whisper 'please, please', as the sensations build into a slow burn centred in my pussy, heavy and rhythmic, like a pulse inside me.

Just as the feeling begins to peak, you pull out and recentre me, then shove yourself inside my other opening, fucking me even harder than before. It's rough and it hurts and you're reaching your own peak now, shoving, pounding inside me, you let out a cry, and I feel the stinging heat spread deeper, which triggers my own pulse to burst in a warm vibration which spreads out through my whole body. My mouth opens, sounds come out but i don't hear anything. I am remade.

Excitement about tonight

Tonight I'm going to DV8, with B and his friend O, plus a few others. I'm excited and scared in equal measure...

Reasons why I'm scared/ anxious about it:
My first public visit to a club without N, unless you count TG in brighton before I even met her, which I didn't have a good time at. When I went places with N, I had context. I would be by her side, then feel brave enough to float off and do the social butterfly thing, then be by her side again. I'd know I was going to be playing, and who it would be with. This time, I don't know WHAT will happen. And yes, in some ways that's very liberating, but it's also scary.

I'll be meeting O for the first time, and that's bound to be a bit awkward. 'Hey, you know this guy you're shagging? Just ignore me while I snog him in front of you, okay?' Apparently she's completely cool with it and totally okay - doesn't WANT a relationship with him, and doesn't do exclusivity at all, she's got her own playmates because she's domme, and why would she mind him beating me when she doesn't want him to do that to her? But still....what if she HATES me? Scared....she won't like me... *wobble*

In some ways, it's a bit like experiencing the whole public clubgoing/ public play thing all over again - I feel like I'm bound to break some unspoken rules, put my foot in it, everyone will end up thinking I'm an idiot. This vulgar acting out of my breakup with N in public has horrified me and I'm somewhat disillusioned by the scene, but also had my first taste of what it's like when people you thought respected and liked you, turn on you.It's knocked my confidence and made me feel very fragile. I need to re-take those steps, but it's hard. I feel so lost.

I'm going over to B's straight from work and getting changed there. I hate getting changed at other people's houses, it makes me feel awkward and tense. But he said it was best if I get there early as the timing is tight, then we can all be ready at the same time, and he can make sure I look sexy enough. What does that mean??!! Does that mean he thinks it's likely I won't look sexy? oh my GOD!

Plus, I'm going to have to get my mojo on and do the fake it till you make it thing, swagger through that damn door and swing my hips like I'm auditioning for a Shakira video. No bloody point in going if I'm just going to mope around, feeling miserable because nobody wants to talk to me, self-fulfilling prophecy etc etc. BE attractive and people will be attracted to you, that's the ticket. Bloody hard though. Hardly slept a wink again last night, more nightmares about N, death and arguments.

Reasons why I'm excited/ anticipating it:
Nothing to hold me back, anything and everthing could happen, I'm going with four doms/ tops and I'm the only sub, ha ha! I can probably spend all night playing if I want to.. I'm staying over which means I can have a lovely gentle come down and spend all night being snuggled and cared for, or possibly shagged rotten by O if we take to each other :-)

I need to make new non-N memories, and this, a club that I've never been to before, is the perfect opportunity. Plus, excited about first public play with B. He's bound to show off a bit, which should be fun, since I like to show off a bit too :-)

Now I'm without a girlfriend, but my libido is still going through the roof, I seriously need a few fuck buddies of my own! I need a few friends I can call on and say, I'm gagging for it, fancy a bit of how's yer mother?

Speaking of which, I've got a sess next wednesday with S&S. Phwoar. We're just going to have a couple of drinks and see where things go. Should be good :-)

Public v Private

It's been a bit difficult this last week or so. I've been about two cups of tea away from leaving the scene altogether. Perhaps surprising to those who know me as a bit of an exhibitionist, I'm very private about anything painful I'm going through, preferring instead to concentrate on the positives in public.

Part of the reason I drifted away from the goth scene was the bitch fest that resulted every time there was a slight bit of conflict and people getting involved when they shouldn't do. I absolutely hate the bitchy side of a scene. It disgusts me when people take sides and get involved in a private matter between two people.

As of tonight, I've removed all online content from my fetlife and ic profiles, and am just keeping the account to keep in touch with friends. I think this is the best way, for now, and not a decision I've taken without reservations. But it's better than leaving the scene for good, and this way I get to keep in touch with the people who've come into my life recently.

I'm trying not to let all of this tarnish the beautiful and spiritual thing that play has become to me, but it's quite hard at the moment.

A new beginning

Ever since I split up with my girlfriend, people keep asking if I'm okay.

It's been really hard, but I'm starting to come to terms with what has happened, and to enjoy myself again. She's encouraged me to continue writing about my experiences, because she knows it's helpful to me when others offer their insight, and perhaps reading about my journey might also help others in the same boat. This is so honourable of her, so decent, that I've decided to honour her in return by respecting her wishes and writing openly and without reservation.

Yesterday I played with B, someone I've got to know recently who is becoming a regular play partner. It was an absolutely fantastic play, for lots of reasons. He's starting to get to know my reactions, and push me further, and I'm starting to trust him more deeply and am able to let myself go a bit more. I can be quite shy about my body, but he's very good at helping me to feel beautiful, and this time I was comfortable enough to be completely naked. I've got hard limits on playing with men, I'm not emotionally available, and while I'm a complete slut at the moment in terms of being practically insatiable for everything sex and play-wise, I'm also devoted to my husband and would never cross the limits I've set with him, nor would I play with anyone who I thought would allow me to. My playmate is such an honourable gentleman that I can trust him to stop me even if I get a bit frisky and over-excited.

Splitting up with my girlfriend has meant that I'm only bound by the limitations agreed with my husband, and so for the first time in fourteen years, I snogged a man who was not my husband. I just adore kissing, I'd snog everyone in the whole world if I could, and although I thought it would feel weird and maybe even freak me out, as I've always been the epitome of faithfulness to my husband, it actually felt very natural. I suppose because I AM being faithful to him, I'm not deceiving or hurting him, just enjoying mutual fun between two people who care about each other. The other thing he was allowed to do which he wasn't before, is have his hands all over my breasts. Yum. I'm not exactly small up top, and it always felt a little cruel to tell him he couldn't touch them. Especially when I was absolutely dying for him to touch me.

This time I had a sense of feeling free from guilt, which liberated me to truly enjoy the play. The last time we played together, he suggested that next time I come, I should bring along some old clothes. I grinned up at him and said "Why, do you want to rip them off me?". "Hmm", he replied, "actually I was thinking of cutting them off you".

*faints*

I practically came in my pants!

Okay, so you know how you have favourite clothes that are so old, so battered, that they are virtually unwearable anymore, but because you loved them once, you can't bear to throw them out? Well, can you think of a better way for such things to be retired disgracefully from your wardrobe? I sent him a text while I was on the train to tell him that every single thing I was wearing was open to being trashed. I was, as always, very nervous, and as we went into his house, I could feel my heart pounding. We sat down in his kitchen for a quick drink, and he pulled me into his arms and gave me a bloody good kissing. Yum. Melty Lucy ensues.

We went downstairs into his dungeon, and did lots more kissing and cuddling, standing up, and then he started spanking me, while looking into my eyes. I have turned into such a complete spanking slut that I was soaking wet by then, and uttered little moans and quiet cries, until he pulled me, unresisting, onto his lap, as he sat sprawled in the black satin duvet puddled on the floor. He carried on spanking me while ripping my fishnets off with his hands, and let me just take a moment to say - is there any sound hotter? - my god, it was absolutely fucking brilliant!

When he'd finished giving me a damn fine bare handed spanking, he lifted me up in my tattered and ripped clothing, and cuffed me to the frame above me. He kissed me again, and asked, "Are you going to be a good girl, Lucy?". I whispered "yes", and to the astonishment of everyone who knows me, I'm sure, I actually did manage to behave myself because he then pulled out an absolutely enormous knife, so big it was more of a small sword! I was shivering and gasping and incredibly turned on. Then he got this switchblade out, which was so sharp, it would have been very easy to have an accident. He slowly and skillfully cut off my top, and ran the back of the knife over my breasts and down my spine, while giving me the most evil but hot stare I've ever seen. Then, he cut away my skirt, and proceeded to rip off the rest of my fishnets. Pause for more spanking, more kissing, and then I looked down and watched him cut away my knickers. Muuurrrrrhhh. *dribble*

A little more kissing, a little more beating, then he uncuffed me and pulled me down into the bedding for a snuggle. What's very nice is that he's absolutely gorgeous, but bizarrely unaware of it, so although he's confident, he's also very modest and not at all arrogant. He's respectful and seems to enjoy playing with me as much as I do with him, but understands quite clearly what I can and can't offer him. I want to play with lots and lots of people, in lots of different ways, but there will be a few people who are special to me and he's definitely one of them, and it makes me happy to know I'm giving him a bit of fun and pleasure, too, because he's definitely giving me plenty!

I think we were down in his basement for four or five hours, not playing for all of that time, stopping for regular breaks, and sometimes just rolling around kissing and wrestling or talking or touching. I couldn't play in private without that sort of stuff, now, if someone is going to hurt me I need to feel they at least care for me a little, that they like me enough to want to spend time chatting and being close, building a connection. Anything else (except for fantasy land - that's quite different of course) would repulse me and leave me feeling humiliated and dirty - and not in a good way.

We had a fantastically fun time after he put some tighter cuffs on me, when I absolutely refused to go quietly and was kicking, pulling, twisting, and generally writhing around trying to get away. He enjoys that too, especially since I always let him overpower me in the end - well, frankly I don't have any choice unless I safeword; he's very strong - and then start shouting my mouth off at him, swearing, calling him a motherfucker and an arsehole, and then descending into whimpering as he spanks and thrashes all the aggression and anger out of me.

At one point I was in a standing position and we were playing quite hard, when I started to feel a little faint. I should have said 'amber' at that point but I still have problems with even semi-safewording. I'm working on it. Fortunately he noticed I wasn't quite myself, and asked me whether I was okay, at which point I 'fessed up I was feeling weird and got quickly taken down and cuddled better again.

Today I feel positively blissful, floaty and relaxed and not at all stressed. I had the best night's sleep I've had in a week. I feel happy and contented and all loved up with myself, my husband, my friends, the whole world and everyone in it. Plus, I've got some FANTASTIC bruises...

Where to next?

Having sat here staring at the screen for ten minutes, reaching for the right words, I'm just going to give up and say whatever comes into my head, and hope it makes sense.

I've used these weblogs to record my journey so far, and to aid the process of self-reflection. I've found it really useful and I don't want to stop doing it.

Up until now, the experiences I've had since coming onto the scene as a newbie six months ago, have been overwhelmingly positive, with occasional hiccups which have been very useful as learning tools. Nothing awful, tragic or sorrowful has happened to me.

For five of those months I've had a girlfriend, and we had a wonderful time together. That relationship has now ended, and that's all I'm going to say about that. I see no point in playing out in public my private sadness UNLESS others might find my insight useful. I'm hardly the first or last person in this situation so I don't think there's anything new to say.

Naturally I'm bruised and heartsore, but I also feel rather adrift and anchorless - a little bit lost, if you will - and that's what I want to talk about now.

I'm still finding my feet in the scene, finding a place for myself. That place is no longer where I thought it was. Who am I when I play, and who do I want to be? How will I feel about playing, without a mentor, guide, best friend, to hold my hand and advise me?

Will I get lost? How do I temper my desire to try everything and everyone, with a bit of self-restraint and common sense? Am I able to? Do I trust myself? What if I become someone or something I don't like?

How do I balance that with wanting to throw myself back wholeheartedly into something that made me feel so shiny and new and gave me so much fun? My shine is a little dulled at the moment, and I need a good polish.

How do I walk the fine line between thinking too much, and not thinking enough?

What's that, you say? Learn from your experiences and take responsibility for yourself? Surely not!

Thank god I'm 33 years old and with a strong support network. I really wouldn't like to have discovered the scene when I was younger and still engaged in Mission Self-Destruct. Where I am in my life now, I've got the tools - gained from bloody hard work - to pick myself up and soldier on, learn from experience, and take responsibility for my own choices.

I hope.

"Mine" [erotic fiction]

We're in the club, in the sweet and velvety darklit space, for my first public play with you. Last night I slept in your bed, and you fucked me and played with me for hours. I've never come so hard or so long, and my skin is so sensitive, just the breeze from the open door is making me shudder.

You stand next to me at the bar with a hand around my waist while I wait until the barman notices me so I can order our drinks. Your hand slips lower over the leather underbust corset, and over the burlesque panties I wear. You start to rub the skin in between there and my fishnet stockings. Your hand slides between my legs and you rub the fabric, checking how wet I am. I'm soaking, as I always am when I'm with you. Just being with you makes my pussy tingle. You pull the sodden material aside and slide two fingers inside me. The barman chooses this moment to ask me for our order, and as I open my mouth to speak, you flex your fingers, making me gasp. You take pity on me and give the order for our drinks, as you push your fingers deeper. As he returns with our drinks, you calmly pay as I stare at him with my lips parted slightly, an expression of pleasure and shock, as your thumb pushes inside my ass and your hand moves harder and faster.

I think I might die of the pleasure. Everyone in the club can see me as my body shudders and trembles, your hand inside my knickers. Your other hand grabs my neck and pushes it down on the bar, bending my body in two. I can feel the orgasm building, the heavy liquid glow inside my stomach, everyone is watching you as you make me helplessly moan, I am horrified, I've never felt so exposed, vulnerable, but I love it, I've never felt so safe, so protected. Just as I think I'm going to come for the twenty fourth time in twenty four hours, you pull your hand away. My body aches for the loss. I'll wait for you.

You take my hand and look into my eyes. You lift my chin and kiss my lips, your tongue gliding lightly over the oh-so-sensitive skin. I lean forward as my pussy begs for you to touch it again but you grab my hand and pull me after you. You give the order and I climb onto the frame, sitting with my back to the wood, a strap around my wrists, ankles and waist. I look at you, trembling, my eyes huge. You smile and turn away, and when you turn back with the flogger in your hand, your face has changed, become controlled, in command. I know this face and love it too. Something inside me relaxes as you take control and you begin warming me up, gently as I'm sore from the things we did together the night before.

You move to another flogger and hit harder, and I start to utter little pain cries for you. You begin with the crop on my legs and it hurts so so much but feels so good, I can feel my pussy throbbing, my clit swelling, burning with the need for you. You seize my hair in handfuls and pull my head towards your breasts, then take my neck into your mouth, suckling and biting. The pain is wonderful, searing, I beg pleadingly, “Please will you mark me, please, please?”. I never demand but I know I'm allowed to ask. Your teeth tear into my flesh, mauling me, and as you step away I can see blood on your lip and I start to cry, but the tears are joyful.

You take out your whips and there is no mercy, as the blows pour over me, you are talking, telling me you're going to beat the living shit out of me, I've been begging for a really hard thrashing, now I'm getting what I asked for, maybe this will teach me to be careful in future. Just as I think I can't take any more you throw the weapons on the floor, and turn away. I'm afraid, thinking you're disappointed in me for not being able to take all the punishment you want to give…but then you turn back and I see you're wearing a double strap-on. The harness conceals the other section which I know is inside you, all I can see is the two cocks which you hold in your hand as you walk towards me.

You literally rip my knickers from my body, you're warning me as you push your first cock against my pussy lips, rubbing, pressing, teasing, that you are going to fuck me bloody senseless, fuck my brains out, fuck me until I can't take any more. Suddenly you shove it inside me, there is little resistance as I'm so soaking wet. The second cock is covered in my wetness too, and slides inside almost as easily. You've fucked me in the ass before and my body opens like a flower for you - but I've never taken it in two places at once. As you settle into your rhythm your own pussy is fucking the cock inside you, feeling it hit all the right spots as you slam yourself into me. 'Oh God, oh, oh, please, don't stop, please'. Your hands on my hips, holding me. Your face, so flushed, so beautiful, in front of mine. As you start to come, the sound of you is too much, my body can't help itself, I start to shake, the heavy feeling inside me grows and spreads through my whole body, like a waterfall, sunlight sparkles in my eyes, the liquid wave stamping your will into every cell, I welcome it, breathing it in, exhaling in huge gasps and sighs as we come together, shining, the lights in the ceiling like starfall as I tilt my head back.

You pull out of me as liquid gushes between us, I think it must all be over, you've taken your satisfaction with me, what could you want with me now? You lovingly stroke my face, running your fingers over my lips. You release me from the restraints and help me to the floor as I kneel, unable to stand, my muscles like jelly. I jump in surprise as you order me onto the spanking bench. More? I'm not sure I can physically take it. I signal this to you, but there is no mercy, not a hint or a shred, as you give the instruction. One way or the other I'm going there.

I crawl, on my hands and knees, unable to stand, as you watch me with a little smile. I can see your friends exchanging knowing, amused glances with you. I climb up onto the bench and collapse, exhausted. You stroll over, and secure something to my backside with bondage tape. I turn my head to see, but you say get your head back there, NOW. And I can't do anything but obey when you use THAT VOICE. You use your cane as a warm up, I'm crying out, ow! Ow! That hurts, please, please, it hurts. I know baby, you say. Just a little longer, you can take a little more, for me, can't you? I nod my head reluctantly and whimper as your cane is exchanged for a paddle which comes down on the same spots again and again. Ten more, you say. You can do that for me baby. 'K, I say in a tiny voice, as I feel the edge of faintness knocking at the door of my mind. Ten hard whacks come down, and I'm almost somewhere else entirely as you gently remove the tape and the leather, and take me in your arms, holding me, stroking me, whispering to me.

Later, long after, after you've taken me home, cleaned my face of tears and streaked eyeliner, put me between clean sheets and tucked my hair behind my ears from my flushed, satisfied face, I've slept, and woken up beside you, so so happy, I wander off to look at my bruises in the mirror. There, among the battle scars I proudly examine, is a big outline formed in bruises. Clearly visible on my ass cheeks are the words 'Mine'. I smile, stretch lazily, and get back in bed with you, and giggle happily before falling asleep again.

Town Slut [erotic fiction]

I think anyone who lived here would be considered an outsider. Although I only moved here a month ago, there are people who've been living in the town for twenty years or more who are still regarded as newcomers. A freak like me never had a chance of fitting in. I suppose I should have expected some kind of fall-out - I just didn't expect it to be like this.

The tradition of Town Slut has a long history. For hundreds of years, one night on every full moon, the sluttiest woman in town was chosen. It's been going on so long, no-one talks about it any more because it's not news. Except - it was news to me. I don't know how they keep it secret from the rest of the world - but they do. If you're born here, you've got the good sense to do your flirting in private. All I did was walk down the street - the way I always do. A little strumpet, they called me. Said my walk was like a challenge…is it my fault I hear music in my head and felt like dancing? I haven't even touched a man or woman since I've been here - not until now.

I heard the doorbell ring while I was getting changed after work. I was in a rush as always, so even though I just had my underwear on, and my heels, I threw my kimono robe over it and answered the door anyway. The silk clung to me in all sorts of interesting places and I realised it had been too long, far too long, since I'd been touched there by anything but my own hands.

I opened the door and was shocked to see five men in suits, all rather heavily set, and of the local council variety, standing on my doorstep. One of them, clearly the designated spokesman, and slightly less unattractive than the others, handed me an envelope. I started to ask him what on earth was going on, but he just gestured at the letter and so I opened it.

“Dear Imp,

Your forward behaviour has been noted and voted on. You have been selected Town Slut and you are considered to have voluntarily reliquished any rights and/or status you may hold for the night of the full moon, April 2009.

Yours sincerely,

People of the Town”

I understood the words but the letter made no sense. I stared at it, bewildered, and then raised my eyes to the council member, my lips forming a soft shape as a prelude to questioning him. I never got the chance to say the first word; he slapped me in the face - hard. I staggered backwards and fell, the silk robe splaying out around my hips as he shouted “you little hussy, we're going to fuck you so hard you'll beg to be a simple whore for the rest of your life”.

Before I could get up, one of the other men shot forward and jabbed a needle into my thigh. Within moments I felt the sedative flooding through me, and I felt woozy and at the same time, powerfully aroused. I blurred in and out of consciousness with images moving like jagged ice in front of my eyes. It must have been some time later that I came to, started to understand and be able to remember what had happened to me.

It was evening by then, and I was outside. The sweet scents of early bluebells were in the air, and I could hear, carried on the warm wind of late spring, the sound of folk laughing and talking, making their way out for the night, or home, with their families, their friends. How could this be happening? How could I be so close to help, yet no-one would help me? Wouldn't someone come and save me from this terrible thing, the awful night to come? Surely it was some sort of elaborate joke. They wouldn't really hurt me - would they? Yet the side of my face where I'd been hit burnt in answer - I already had been hurt, and the chances were I'd be hurt very much more by the end of the night.

Strangely it didn't terrify me though. I was frightened, but I was also very excited, so the drugs must still be coursing through my system. I took a moment to take stock of my surroundings. I was in a paved area by the clock tower, in between where the main roads met. I was nearby most of the pubs and clubs in the town, and there were already people walking through this arterial route through the city.

I was restrained in an unusual way. Somehow my wrists, waist and ankles had been cuffed to a sort of frame on a large bench, which was attached to various winches and pullies. It didn't take a genius to work out that these could be used to move my body into different positions where certain things would be more…accessible. I still had on my stockings, bra and shoes, but I'd lost my knickers and robe somewhere along the line. I was lying on my front, over the bench, with my hands behind my back. My head lay slightly over the edge, my waist was strapped to the bench, and my knees were parted, with my ankles cuffed so that I couldn't close my legs.

While I'd been noticing these things, more people strolled through the courtyard. An elderly couple, arm in arm, chatting and enjoying the evening air, paused nearby me. The gentleman turned to his wife, indicated me, and said “do you mind, darling? I just need to relieve myself…” His wife smiled and gestured for him to go ahead. He came between my legs, out of my sight, but I could smell his slightly faded grandeur. I heard the sound of his trousers being unbuttoned, and then the noise of him clearing his throat with a cough. He put his fragile old hands on my legs and moved them slightly further apart - the frame took the strain and I couldn't move them back, although it became uncomfortable, verging on painful.

From the side of my vision I saw his wife stopping to pat their small dog, and chat with some friends who had just been out for their own evening walk. I felt her husband's hands touch me between my legs, searching for an entrance. He held himself with one hand, while the other spread the lips of my pussy. Although he was old, he was very hard, and clearly in need. I was dry, and it hurt and burnt as he pushed himself inside me. I cried out, but I may as well have been silent for all the notice the townspeople took of my moans, shouts, whimpers, cries of no, stop, don't, you're hurting me…

He thrust only a few times before quickly coming inside me, and the hot spurt lubricated me a little. He wiped himself off on my thigh with a grunt, zipped himself up, and walked away to join his wife with an 'all done darling, let's get home to feed the dog, it's past his teatime”.

A little later, a group of young lads, in their early teens, wandered through the square. They sat on the steps of the clock tower with some shandy, laughing and all trying to pretend they weren't looking over to where I was tied. After some time, they gave up on this and started egging each other on, all trying to avoid being the one to go first, but all wanting to use me before they went home to Mum and Dad for their dinner. They were clearly virgins, and I wondered why they hadn't made use of the Town Slut before.

One by one, they made their way to me, until all of them had their fill. They were all unsurprisingly small, none of them having reached their full growth yet. They could barely wait until they were inside me before shooting their load, and before long I had streams of come running down my legs, pooling onto the bench beneath me. They laughed and joked as they teased each other with comments about size and stamina, but really they all felt the same once they had their dicks in my pussy. They thrust like rabbits, fast yet shallow, taking their satisfaction quickly, shocked at their own daring. One talked big, saying he was going to come in my mouth, but he couldn't work out how to use the equipment and before long, the temptation to get his cock inside me, warm, soft, and tight, won out.

When they'd all had a turn, they drifted off, bonded by the experience, leaving me exhausted and used, sore, my mind floating…

I don't remember all the men, and yes, the women too, who took their pleasure with me that night. The worst was when the clubs started throwing people out, and a group of cocky young men walked past. They'd been drinking, heavily, and were pulsing with testosterone and adrenaline, looking for a fight and a fuck. One particularly repellent young man, with shaved head, earring, and expression of angry arrogance, was wearing no shirt and had his trousers barely held up in that ridiculous fashion which allows the wearer's pants to be on full view, for better or for worse.

He stopped in front of me. I was the perfect way to prove what a man he was in front of his mates, despite the fact that he hadn't pulled that night. He started yanking the frame around so that I was positioned hovering above the bench, my body suspended, but still face down. He told his blonde friend to lie underneath me, with his back on the bench, and get ready to put his cock inside me. Despite all the cocks I'd been fucked with, I was still tight, and wet, so wet, from all the semen, and my own juices. The blonde man was big and wide, and he rubbed against my clitoris with the head of his dick. He pushed it towards my opening, and shoved the first inch inside. My muscles involuntarily gripped him, and he cried out, and grabbed my hips with both hands, pulling me onto him with one movement. He started to thrust, but the chav guy, the one bossing the others about, he stopped him from thrusting any further with his hand on the guy's shoulder. He beckoned his other friend over, he had his long brown hair in a ponytail, and positioned him standing so he was behind me, between my open legs. The ponytail guy used his hand to scoop up a palmful of other men's come, and rubbed it between my buttocks. Then with one sharp stab, he shoved his thin, long cock inside my arse. I was so full of cock I felt as if I was going to explode, but there was one more place which hadn't been filled.

The chav guy in charge came round to the front, and stood in front of my face. He looked me in the eye and smirked as he took himself out of his pants. He slapped me in the face with his cock and grabbed my chin with one hand, squeezing until my mouth dropped open, and then shoved himself inside me. He started fucking my mouth, and the other two men moved in rhythm with him. He set the pace, alternating between long, deep, slow, to fast and shallow, as he controlled my breathing with his cock. I was terrified, and he responded to the fear which could only be expressed through my eyes, by fucking my mouth as hard and deep as he possibly could, until I thought I'd choke to death.

Just as I started to become faint with the restriction to my airway, his head rolled back and he moaned, desperately, as he filled my throat and mouth up with come, holding my head so close to his body I was sunk deep into his balls, forced closer by the hands holding my hair. He thrust and thrust the last tiny spurts into me and his groans brought the other two men to the edge, and my body was overflowing with hot spunk in every part possible, my hips bruised and battered, my scalp sore, my breasts bleeding and my skin torn.

The man in front of me withdrew, stared at me in disgust, and spat on me. His friends peeled themselves away from my body, laughed, high fived each other, and they all walked away, high spirits restored by giving me what I deserved.

I lay, broken, used, exhausted, as the knowledge dawned on me that I would never be the same again. Then, through my swelling eyes (some of the men had hit me so hard my face was blackened with bruises), I saw a woman, her sweet curves held tight by a black satin corset, was looking at me with the deepest compassion. Her soft hands stroked my face, and she whispered “I'm going to look after you, baby”. Gently, she undid the cuffs holding me down, and rubbed my wrists until the circulation began to return. She kissed my cheek, and despite the night's pain, I felt myself throb in response. “you are mine now, you belong to me”, she said, “and no-one can hurt you unless I permit it. Which I may choose to do. Will you come with me? Will you be my little hussy, to use and abuse?”

“Please, please, yes, take me”, I begged.